


futures

by adreamaloud, daneorange (adreamaloud)



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1914891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/adreamaloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/daneorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Piper hangs on as Alex disappears. Here be futures that never were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. things that cannot be reversed

i.

Piper learns about her failure in whispers, a couple of days after the last time she sees Alex. _Vause skipped town, didn’t you hear?_ Nicky comes to her first, casually slipping it in as they’re coming out of Luschek’s shed.

“Sorry, Chapman.” Nicky shrugs, looking at her kindly. Not that there’s anything else left to say.

Piper breathes in, counting back to one – a little trick she learned from Red. “How did it happen?” she asks, trying to be casual, even if her chest feels like it had just been seared and singed.

“They say her parole officer found her Queens apartment empty,” Nicky says.

Piper replays their last visitation over and over in her head. _You can’t leave me._ Piper closes her eyes at that. “Jesus, Alex,” she just mutters, turning back to her broken lamp.

“She’s a big girl,” Nicky says. “Wherever the fuck she is.”

The first few nights, Piper does not sleep. While she actively refuses to acknowledge certain fears in the daylight, once everything’s quiet in the dark, it just gets harder and harder to push the questions out of her head. _Where was she? Was she safe, at least?_

_Will I ever see her again?_

It doesn’t take long before Piper finally decides to read Alex’s letters, stuffed into her locker as this small pile of sealed envelopes, somewhat similarly sized and all bearing Alex’s handwriting. There’s a familiar tremble in her hand as she tears the first one open, noting with muted fondness how Alex would have set her pen upon the paper so hard Piper certainly could have felt the letters under her fingertips like Braille. _Some things never change,_ she just thinks, running her eyes over and over the pages. 

It changes nothing; just old words.

*

Some nights, Piper dreams: Sometimes, they’re of Alex reading on the beach, turning to her with her exposed shoulders already a warm shade of red and adjusting her glasses. Some nights, they’re replays of that visit, the feel of Alex’s sweater between her fingers. Those are the relatively good nights.

On colder nights, she dreams of Alex holding her – in a room up in the trees in Bali, on a bed surrounded by candles; in a pool in Paris, the water warm around them; in this fucking prison, on that fucking bed, in that fucking chapel -- and always, Piper wakes with a start.

“Want to talk about it?” Red’s already up when Piper comes to; she always is, it’s like the woman never sleeps herself.

“No,” Piper says after a while, the sound scratching her throat.

*

Days go by. News of Alex’s disappearance gets old and people start forgetting, even Piper, who herself starts getting wrapped up in the details of Litchfield again. No chickens and newsletters and defective laundry machines, just – _details_. How to get through meals without being included in someone’s Bang Off list; how to get through the showers without getting caught in there with the drain overflowing with shit.

After some time, everything becomes bearable. Maybe this is what Larry’s father meant by keeping her head down. Occasionally, Cal drops by to visit. Some days he’s on his own and Piper doesn’t mind.

She stays out of the phone booths. Who needs phone calls, right?

*

Months pass. On her birthday, Piper gets an unsigned postcard that she initially thinks is from her father, until she sees that nondescript heart scribbled at the corner, the strokes all too familiar. Her chest stills at the sight; it’s a postcard from Macau.

 _Alex._ Piper cannot decide whether to be mad or sad or relieved. _Thanks a lot, you fucker,_ she just thinks, wiping at a stray teardrop upon its surface.

*

The day before Piper’s date, Red herself throws the party. Nicky does the décor with Morello and Soso, and people mill around the place like they actually care she’s leaving. There’s music and cake, and Boo starts a riot on the dance floor until the new CO after Fischer comes in to nervously request the inmates to tone it down. Piper cries, of course; curiously, with her freedom just within reach, she feels more trapped than ever.

“Where you headed, Chapman?” Nicky asks, after.

Piper just looks at her blankly before staring at her things – books, mostly, and a handful of letters she’ll never admit to keeping. She just shrugs. Truth be told, Litchfield has been home for so long that she no longer knows where else it could be.

At the back of her head, she thinks: _Alex._ “My parents, maybe,” she says instead, half-heartedly. “Or maybe a hotel.”

“No Larry?”

“Not tomorrow,” says Piper. “Or ever, actually.”

“That bad, huh.”

Piper forces herself to smile. It’s her last day, for fuck’s sake; why does it feel like she’s breaking up with an entire family?  


Off the look on Piper’s face, Nicky just says, “We’re gonna miss you around here, Piper,” before ruffling Piper’s hair so fondly her heart breaks. “But we never want to see you again in here, okay? _Seriously._ You hearing me, Chapman?”

Piper nods, sniffing. “I’ll miss you too, Nicky.”

“And stay away from Alex.”

Piper sighs. “I don’t even know where she is.”

“And maybe it’s for the best.”

Piper watches as Nicky turns away to go back to her cube, her last word ringing in her ear. _Best._ Piper feels like laughing: Between these walls and the great emptiness outside, what is this thing that Nicky calls _best_?

She thinks for sure there was a time she knew.

*

Cal comes and picks her up, gives her a giant hug as she slides into his truck. She inhales deeply afterwards, squinting at the sun.

“Your truck smells better today,” she tells Cal.

“Thought I’d make it extra-special this time,” he just says. Piper laughs, letting the cold morning air into her mouth, like she’s trying to taste it. “So where to, sis?”

Piper thinks about it for a moment, biting at the tip of her tongue. “Take me to my apartment,” she says after a while, before sitting quietly throughout the trip, her eyes closed.

 


	2. bite my tongue, torch my dreams

ii.

Piper unpacks and does not take long. Truth be told, she’s not surprised at all at the speed with which she empties her Litchfield box; what does surprise her is the unsettling silence.

For the first time after a long time, Piper is alone – not solitary confinement-alone, but alone _alone._ Alone the way people can be in their apartments when nobody else is there. Alone the way people are with no one in the kitchen. Alone in the sense that you do not have to wait for anyone to finish at the showers.

 _Shower,_ Piper corrects herself, staring at her face in the mirror, studying it for marks of time. _Where does time go when it does, no?_ she asks herself. And then, moving her lips, she says aloud: “Where does time go?”

Her voice echoes strangely in the bathroom – which is sad, considering how this had been home for the longest time. _Home should be a place where nothing is strange,_ Piper just thinks, letting the water run with her hand underneath, trying to clear her mind.

*

Slowly, her life comes back to her – or at least, what remains of it. Her mother comes to visit that weekend, and the first thing she tells her is how Larry moved in with Polly.

“I do not need to hear about this,” Piper starts saying.

“I thought you wanted to get back into your life,” her mother just says.

Her father takes a longer time, but when he sees her, he just hugs her without saying anything. In many ways, that really makes him better than her mother. Piper keeps quiet.

*

“Maybe I should get a job,” she tells Cal during one visit. They’d been giving her groceries since she got back, but her appetite’s not really too demanding, especially when she does nothing but chores.

“If I remember right,” Cal says, scratching at his beard. “The last time you tried to get a job, you ended up with a drug dealer.”

“Very funny,” Piper says, though there’s a twinge there somewhere that she cannot deny.

“Tell you what,” says Cal. “Maybe I can hook you up with an opportunity or two.”

Piper doesn’t know whether to trust her brother, but for the lack of any better risks to take, she just lets him do what he wants.

*

Piper cannot decide which surprises her more -- that Cal has friends to begin with or that he has friends who are actually owners of thriving businesses. In the end, Piper just decides to be thankful. It’s a small secondhand book store in a quiet corner of town and all Piper has to do is watch. It’s easy, relatively stress-free, plus she is around books. It’s a comforting thing.

On good days Piper sees a dozen or so customers, and on really good days she gets a handful of sales. Some days Piper also gets to fix electrically malfunctioning things—something that fills her with this inexplicable sense of achievement.

Once, Cal walks in on her changing one of the light bulbs. “Damn, Pipes,” Cal says. “You’re a changed woman.”

Piper hits him up the back of his head, but she counts her blessings anyhow.

*

Days go by. Piper makes friends with the regulars, and starts a small newsletter for the new acquisitions, which she posts online. _Look at us,_ she just thinks. _Trying to have a normal life._

Their online presence does not take off, not really; must be their customers are elsewhere, or just ridiculously small in number. Piper decides it doesn’t matter, but she keeps at it anyway. Not that she has anything better to do.

After some time, she settles in more comfortably, until it feels just like slipping into second skin or putting on a really old sweater. She opens the store at 8 and drinks her coffee behind the counter, watching people go by – busy people, young people, old people; families, friends, couples. On extra slow days, Piper likes making up stories about them in her head – which couples are fighting over money, or which among the busy ones are barely holding on to their jobs.

She still thinks about Alex, but only very rarely, like when a Murakami gets bought off the shelves. “I love this book,” she finds herself telling the girl who brings it to the counter. “ _Loved_ ,” she corrects. “We all love Norwegian Wood at some point in our lives.”

The girl, who may not have been older than seventeen, just gives her a puzzled look. Piper wishes she could say more, but the truth is she barely remembers the details – just the feeling of picking the thing up off the shelf just so she could distract herself from one of their early fights.

Closing the register after that purchase, Piper thinks about how Litchfield already feels so far away, noting the little twinge in her heart as the bell by the entrance tinkles with the shutting of the door.


	3. burn the pages

iii.

It rains on the day Alex stops by, wiping at her rain-streaked glasses as she pushes the door open. Piper is between the stacks, re-shelving books when it happens; she takes a moment or two before realizing what is going on, exactly.

The first word to Piper’s lips is, “Fuck.”

Alex pushes her jacket’s hood off her head, laughing. “Well, there’s that, but how about we begin with a hello, Pipes?”

 _How is she even here?_ Piper blinks, walking briskly toward the door and flipping the closed sign before drawing the blinds and locking the door. Alex just watches her, amused, her brow lifted playfully. “How are you even here?” asks Piper in a whisper, voice tight. “Aren’t you—Jesus, don’t you have a vengeful drug kingpin tailing you, for fuck’s sake?”

“ _Relax,_ Piper,” says Alex, running a hand into her hair, wet from the downpour.  “You think I’d lead them here?”

“I don’t even know how you know I’m _here_.”

The way Alex smiles – so genuine it feels like Piper’s being stabbed in her side. Repeatedly. With shards with jagged edges. “I’m happy to see you too, Piper,” she says. “I saw your book store’s page online. Been following quietly for a while.”

“Jesus.” Piper puts a hand on the counter, gripping it for support. And then, looking at Alex one more time: “Are you really here?” she asks, squinting at the raindrops on Alex’s face. “You’re here, right? I’m not just – you’re not just in my _head_ , are you?”

Alex laughs – a full, hearty sound that starts deep in her chest. “Are you serious?” she asks, stepping closer, hands hovering like she isn’t sure if she could _touch._ Piper takes a step back, surprised. “Come on, kid.”

Piper flinches at the familiarity, before gingerly reaching out to touch Alex’s arm: Solid and comfortably _warm,_ and actually 100% real – not to mention damp. Which brings Piper to: “Shit, those clothes—you must be cold.”

Suddenly, Alex is shy – like she were trying to hide the fact that she really is somewhat freezing. She shrugs her jacket off, shaking her shoulders a little. “Sorry,” she says, folding the jacket over her arm carefully. “I’m dripping all over your floor – I didn’t mean to come in, just. Fucking rain shower is a fucking surprise.”

“Weather’s crazy, isn’t it,” Piper says, staring at the small puddle forming under Alex’s shoes. “This morning it was—what do you mean, you didn’t mean to come in?” Piper blinks, realizing the tail-end of that comment. Alex looks away, adjusting her glasses, like she always does when she evades questions. “ _Alex_.”

“I meant I wasn’t supposed to come in, but being umbrella-less under the downpour left me without a choice.”

 _Here we go again,_ Piper thinks, biting her tongue. She and Alex and speaking in circles – she knows it rather well, and truth be told it has always been so _exhausting_. “Fine,” she says, dropping it. The surprise on Alex’s face seems to say, _This isn’t the Piper I knew._ “We should—you should change into new clothes. I keep some in the backroom. I could go get one for you.”

Piper’s already near the backroom door when Alex says, “I know you told them I was skipping town.” Piper stops but does not turn around, waiting. “But that isn’t why I’m here.”

Piper exhales, pushing the door open and switching on the lights. She keeps clothes in her locker for rainy days, sure – perhaps that makes her look somewhat prepared, but damn, nothing could have prepared her enough for _Alex_. Piper must have been fiddling with the shirts far too long, because after a while Alex calls out: “You all right Pipes?”

Piper closes her eyes, thinking, _God, she shouldn’t still get to say my name like that._ “I’ll be out in a bit,” she calls right back, shutting her locker but keeping the backroom door open. It’s a small room, but it should do.

When she gets back, Alex is browsing books casually near the counter, extra careful not to get the pages wet. Piper hangs back, watching her quietly. She’d missed looking at Alex like this: Without that creepy feeling that she’s being watched while _looking_. Piper holds her breath, thinking, _This is Alex in her most normal of states: Book in hand and lost in the pages._

A brief flash of lightning interrupts Alex, who is quite visibly startled by the rumbling that comes after. Piper clears her throat, like she wants to warn Alex that she’s approaching. Alex straightens herself, suddenly conscious, returning the book on the shelf.

“Sorry, I was just—”

“The backroom’s right through here,” Piper says, handling the fresh shirt over with one hand and gesturing with the other. “It’s small, but it’d do.”

Alex takes the shirt, looking at Piper for a long while, like she’s figuring the offer out; for a moment, Piper is afraid that Alex is considering changing right there and then. Her sharp intake of breath pushes a small laugh out of Alex, who smiles as she thanks her before walking toward the back.

Piper exhales slowly, staring at Alex as she disappears into the room, door closing behind her. _This fucker,_ she just thinks, looking out the window. Outside it is still pouring, the skies dark and heavy; the pavement filling with water.

When she looks toward the backroom, she catches Alex’s eye as she emerges from it, wearing one of Piper’s dry shirts.

 _Shit,_ Piper thinks, scanning the store’s walls. _This is going to be a long day._

*

Alex sits in the chair Piper provides for her near the shelves. “Help yourself,” Piper says, gesturing to the stacks. “It looks like we’ll be here for a while.” She’s sitting behind the counter, choosing to do the week’s reports instead. _A safe distance,_ Piper reminds herself.

Shrugging, Alex stands, walking toward the farther end of the shelf. “Thanks,” she says, murmuring with her voice low. It unsettles Piper slightly, that this should still send a slight ripple across her spine. _Piper. Stop that._

For a long while, it is quiet; Piper thinks it’s strange, to be in the same room as Alex without talking, but then, she’s done this before, hasn’t she? Only then, it was Alex who was bound to her spreadsheets, and Piper who was confined to her books, and not the other way around.

“Who the fuck would put their copy of Diane Ackerman in a second-hand book shop?” Alex calls out, breaking the silence. Piper sits up, trying to see where in the book shop Alex is at, because _really,_ an Ackerman she does not know about? How had she missed that?

“Which Ackerman?”

“The _Natural History of Love_ one.”

“ _What?_ ” Piper pushes herself away from her computer to get out of the counter, almost certain that Alex is joking. When she gets to her, Alex is sitting cross-legged on the floor, her long legs wedged between the stacks, the book in question on her lap.

Alex is scanning its pages idly – indeed, she must have read this about a hundred times already, and still, every time she comes across a copy, she never fails to open it. _After all this time._ “Who would have thought, huh?” she asks, looking up at Piper.

Piper looks away, trying not to be _taken_ by the moment. “If that goes missing,” she just says, getting ready to turn back around to go back to the counter.

“Watch me then,” says Alex softly. It’s enough to stop Piper in her tracks. “Come read with me, Pipes.” When Piper looks back at her, Alex is patting the space beside her, hugging her knees closer to her chest, like she’s making herself smaller to make room.

Piper takes a breath, trying to remember the last time they were ever like that: Side-by-side, books in hand, just quiet. Though she hates admitting this to anyone, much less herself, those moments were among her life’s most treasured, all considered.

And now, here Alex is – asking to be _considered._ “Hey Pipes,” she says again, book still open in her lap. “Are we not going to talk for the entire afternoon?”

“There are—I have reports to finish, and—”

“I’m right inside your book shop, Pipes. There is no ignoring me.” Alex pushes herself off the floor, tucking the book under her arm. “And if you need help with those spreadsheets—”

“I’m good,” Piper says, going back to the counter. “Sit back down and read.”

“Yes ma’am,” Alex just says behind her. Piper does not look back.

*

Screw the reports – Piper just sits there distracted, just by the mere knowledge of Alex in the immediate vicinity. It is actually insane – how could a person’s mere presence contribute so much to the density of the air around her? Piper wants to know, and she isn’t even so interested in the _science_ , to begin with.

Staring at her blank spreadsheet forms, Piper wonders why Alex isn’t angry – why she hadn’t stormed the book store to begin with, the minute she knew Piper was there? Why the calm, if she’s saying she’d known all that while that Piper had told on her about her plans?

Outside, the rain’s still pouring – this in the middle of a so-called summer. _None of this makes sense,_ she thinks, pressing against space in the middle of her eyebrows as she feels the start of a headache come on.

“You’re still getting those migraines?”

When Piper opens her eyes, Alex is now leaning against the stacks, a different book in her hand.  “Kind of,” she says. “This weather is driving me nuts. Among other things.”

Alex laughs. “Among other things,” she just says back. “Tell me about that.”

“Alex.” Piper sighs. Is she actually waiting for Piper to ask first? “All right. You want to do this now?”

“Do what now?” Alex keeps her eyes glued to her book, and it infuriates Piper in the most familiar of ways.

“What is it that you want Alex? How are you even here – and this isn’t just about finding our damn page online, you know what I mean. What happened in Queens? What happened between today and that day I last saw you--”

Alex shuts her book abruptly, the soft thud of it filling the small book shop ominously, and Piper feels the sound of it right against her chest, her heart fluttering, a little. “Where do I start?”

“Last question, then backwards,” Piper offers. “Between today and that day I last saw you.”

“Ah, yes. Did you get my postcards?”

“You _fucker_ ,” says Piper. “That was—god, are you here as a fugitive, or something? Because I swear to God, I am done being dragged into things with you--”

“Pipes,” says Alex calmly, approaching the counter slowly. “I’m clean, I wouldn’t—it’s not easy flying back into town, you know?”

“You sent me postcards from _Macau_ , for crying out loud. What was I supposed to think?”

“I served time for parole violation, all right?” Alex says quietly. “Just so we’re clear.”

Stunned, Piper says nothing for a while, studying Alex in silence. Suddenly, she feels so foolish for having concluded that Alex is here as a drug convict who’d just violated her parole and has been hiding ever since. “And Kubra?” Piper feels her throat constrict at the mention of the name, a chill gripping her chest.

“No longer here,” says Alex. “Or at least that’s what they told me. After all – he must have bigger things to do after his acquittal. For all my betrayal,” Alex breathes in at the word, pushing her glasses up over her face. “I don’t think it’s particularly financially rewarding to pursue me any further for revenge,” she says, shrugging. “Small fry, big ocean. You know the drill. In any case – I’m done hiding.”

Piper finds herself exhaling in relief. “I…” she trails off, at a loss for words. When she looks at her, Alex is wiping at her face with the back of her hand. _She’s crying? The fuck—she_ is _crying._ “Hey,” she says softly, touching Alex’s wrist on the counter. “I’m—I’m really happy for you.”

“Sorry,” says Alex. “I—I thought, _Jesus_. I had this spiel pinned down, like, _days ago._ ” The thought of Alex practicing those lines brings a smile to Piper’s face for the first time that afternoon. “Please don’t laugh at me, I cannot take any more.”

“Oh,” says Piper, grip tightening around Alex’s arm. “Sorry. I did not mean. _Sorry,_ it’s just—I’m really happy for you, okay? Clean slates.”

Alex nods, sniffing, “Clean slates.” For a brief moment, Piper sees Alex glance toward the space where Piper’s got her hand around her arm, and Piper pulls her hand back gently, suddenly embarrassed. Alex just laughs, carrying on like nothing happened. “So. That’s why I came here.”

“God, I feel like such an asshole,” says Piper.

“Eh, I got a free shirt,” says Alex. “Guess we’re even.”

And just like that, Piper starts laughing – an honest-to-goodness laugh, one that feels good blossoming from her chest, outward. It’s the strangest feeling, looking at Alex this way – with all the weight lifted, the records wiped. _Clean slates,_ Piper thinks.

For the first time in so many years, Piper allows herself to think: _Maybe._

*


	4. like the bullet you never saw coming

iv.

Days go by. When the skies are good, Alex comes by with ice cream in her hands, charging against the book shop’s door, shoulder first. “Well?” says Alex as she tries to hand one of the cones over to Piper, currently busy behind her computer. “When a woman brings you ice cream in this sweltering heat, you must always be thankful to see her.”

“And I am,” says Piper, eyes glued to her screen as she blindly reaches out for the cone with her free hand. “Just – wait a minute.”

“Quick. It’s melting,” Alex says. When Piper looks up, Alex is grinning right at her, deliberately moving the cone around to evade her.

“Jesus,” says Piper, finally catching it. “Are you twelve?”

“Eleven,” Alex corrects, tongue darting out at her ice cream. “Sorry I didn’t have time to ask for the flavor, but I suppose you still like pistachio?”

Piper just nods, trying not to stare. The days between have been strange – like Alex is making an effort at being _friends._ For a change. “I do,” she says finally, blinking as she feels a drop of ice cream land on her hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  Alex smiles, backing into the shelf, like she's telling Piper to get on with whatever she's doing; the word that occurs to Piper is _background._

 _Hmm,_ Piper just thinks, biting into her ice cream, enjoying the slight sting.

Alex hangs around, milling about the shop quietly, re-arranging misplaced books here and there, and oftentimes handling the top shelves. A few times Piper sees her assisting customers, speaking with them about books and recommendations softly, occasionally handing down a book from a high shelf.

"One of these days I'll have to split my salary with you," Piper says casually at the end of the day, watching Alex as they prepare for closing.

"Or you could buy me dinner," Alex replies, smiling so wide Piper worries she'll break her face.  Piper laughs, locking the cash register and shutting down her computer.

"All right then." Piper shrugs her jacket on and pulls the hood up, covering her ears. No matter how warm the mornings could be, the walk home is still chilly, somewhat. "So. Mexican, Thai..." Piper trails off as she steps out onto the street, shoving her hands in her jacket’s pockets.

Alex steps out in kind, shoulders brushing against Piper’s. Piper takes that as her signal to blindly reach back for the door handle, and by complete accident, her hand lands right on Alex’s, wrapped as it is around the knob. Piper freezes, stunned – the gesture feels so _alien_ right now, and Alex, realizing how awkward it must have made Piper, just quietly withdraws her hand from under hers, shoving it into her pocket in kind.

“Whatever you want,” Alex says. “If you’re busy tonight, we could—”

“ _Alex_ ,” Piper says, breathing in. “Let’s have dinner. Okay?” Leaning closer, she lets herself loop an arm around Alex’s loosely, trying to pass it off as the most casual thing. _We can do this right?_ She just thinks, willing her legs to walk.

They end up walking aimlessly for a while. Somewhere in between, Alex frees her arm from Piper’s casual hold and proceeds to drape it across her shoulders. _Casual is as casual does,_ Piper thinks, smiling as she leans into it. No point in resisting; besides, the night is getting cold.

“You up for some ramen?” Alex asks finally, as they turn into an alley that leads toward the town’s Little Tokyo.

Piper just shrugs. “Why not?”

Dinner is quiet, mostly, and Piper tries to remember if it ever was like this, before everything else. Being in this space with Alex is strange but comforting; certainly takes some getting used to, being with _just_ Alex and nobody else – and without the nagging feeling of being tailed and monitored, too.

“I could get used to this,” Piper says much later, drinking her house tea slowly.

Across her, Alex just smiles, palms wrapped around her tea in kind. “Not a bad thing, is it?” she just asks back, her eyes glittering.

*

On rainy afternoons, Alex comes by with donuts and Piper makes coffee for two. By this time, Piper has already made a small nook for her – a small table flanked by a couple of chairs near the window, right beside the counter. Alex smiles at the set-up, pulling a chair out and gesturing for Piper to sit. Piper tries not to blush.

On afternoons like this, foot traffic is really low, and Piper’s thankful that at least Alex is here – sometimes the quiet still drives her crazy.

“Remember that day you first came here?” Piper begins, blowing at the surface of her coffee gently before sipping. “I thought I was imagining you.”

Alex takes a bite off her donut before answering. “I used to walk past your book shop a lot – say, two weeks prior.”

Piper feels her eyes go wide at that. “You don’t say.”

“I _am_ saying,” says Alex. “I was—well. Working up the guts, you know?”

Piper tries to imagine Alex across the street, looking in uncertainly, and her heart just feels _seized_ with all sorts of fondness. “Then the sudden downpour kinda forced your hand.”

“Kind of,” says Alex, growing quiet. For a while, they tend to their own coffee cups, basking in the stillness. And then, after a while: “I’m glad it did.”

Piper pauses, settling down her cup. “Me too.”

“I still have your shirt, by the way,” says Alex.

Piper shakes her head, gesturing with her hand. “No, keep it.”

“All right.” Alex fiddles with the teaspoon in her cup, the tinkling of steel against porcelain filling the air for a good while. _How... ordinary,_ Piper thinks. _How regular._ In her darkest moments, alone in seg, she remembers thinking about how far away _normal_ and _regular_ were to her right then, and now.

And now, here she is, sitting across Alex, having _ordinary_ donuts with _regular_ coffee on an afternoon like this. Nothing spectacular, unlike the sunset cruises they once had in the Caribbean, or the stunning breakfasts they had in hotels overlooking the Aegean Sea.

Here now, just two people in a small bookshop.

“What are you thinking about, Pipes?”

Piper smiles into her cup. “Say my name again,” she just says, her voice small and shy.


	5. begin

v.

Piper finally lets Alex into her apartment on a Saturday night for dinner, following a half day’s worth of book shop duty. Alex enters carefully, pulling her jacket off slowly by the door and looking around. For the first time in quite a while, Piper feels _naked_ , like she’s letting the sun in on a thing that’s been in the dark for far too long.

“So.” Piper says, leaning against the wall by the stairs.

When Alex looks at her, Piper just _knows_. Just like that, Alex is taking bold, decisive strides toward her, reaching out with a hand and pulling her in for a kiss. True, they’ve done this countless times, and in all the most inopportune of moments, at some points, but this – _this_ feels like something Piper’s been holding her breath for all this while, nothing quite anything she’s ever had, and still, she is not breathing.

Well, truth be told, Alex has always been this all-consuming thing; in that moment, lost in the warmth of Alex’s hands, Piper wonders how she could have gone on for so long without. Right here, the rush of younger years is _gone_ , replaced with the steady and the languid, and Piper feels Alex push up against her warmly as she lets herself land back against the wall with a soft thud.  

(How long does it go? Piper loses count. Piper loses herself, for the first time in a long time, and she doesn’t care – eyes closed, fingers gripping blindly at the collar of Alex’s shirt, knees weak.)

*

Later in bed, Piper finds them naked under the sheets and all too warm, and she’s got an arm thrown lazily across Alex’s stomach.

“Shit,” she finds herself saying.

“I know, right.” Alex’s laugh starts as a low murmur in her throat. “Can’t believe we held on for _that_ long.”

The comment earns Alex a swat in the arm from Piper. “You’re still full of shit, aren’t you,” she says all too fondly. When she breathes in, everything’s _Alex_ , and she just finds herself gripping harder, like everything’s going to slip away any moment now.

“I’m still here, Pipes,” says Alex, rubbing at Piper’s arm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Piper presses herself closer, until her ear is flat against Alex’s chest, marveling at the sounds Alex’s body makes right under the skin; that soft, regular beat underneath. “Please don’t go anywhere.”

“Not going anywhere, kid. Promise.”

 _Promise._ The word fills Piper with dread and hope, and a strange sort of panic starts clawing at her in the dark. “What if…” she begins, clearing her throat. “What if it still doesn’t work?”

“Well then,” says Alex after some thought. “I suppose at least this time we can’t pin it on the drugs.”

It strikes Piper as just the truest thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended at an unexpected note. Chapter titles from Daughter, Noah Gundersen and Ben Lee.


End file.
